


Her Compass

by glinda4thegood



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Choices, Compasses, Dream Conversations, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-12
Updated: 2011-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-18 00:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glinda4thegood/pseuds/glinda4thegood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Dead Man's Chest. Jack . . . Will . . . If Elizabeth stood between the two of them, holding the compass, in which direction would the needle point?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Compass

_"Conscience is our magnetic compass; reason our chart."_ \- Joseph Cook

 _"Men go abroad to wonder at the heights of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motions of the stars, and they pass by themselves without wondering."_ \- Saint Augustine

 

Elizabeth fell asleep in spite of the hot, damp swamp air, in spite of her body’s consciousness of the uneven wooden planking under the scanty padding of ragged blankets. Since the sinking of the Pearl, she had worked very hard to keep her mind a quiet thing that simply reacted, and did not turn toward introspection. She had worked very hard not to think too much about which direction the compass had pointed her.

The result of all this hard work was an unutterable weariness that took her waking mind, dashed it like a barrel against the rocks, and shattered it into a thousand free-floating pieces.

"I did what I had to do."

There was a lingering moment when she was still aware of noises from the jungle. Water slopping against the pilings beneath the shack, strange cries from throats that could have been animal, insect, the twice-damned monkey, or . . . perhaps other. Some of Tia Dalma’s people had seemed . . .

Black sleep snuffed the noise like reality was but a flickering candle.

 

"Well. Fancy seeing you here. And fully clothed. 's not quite what I was imagining, love."

Elizabeth's eyes flew open. "Jack?" Her fingers pushed against damp, slimy rock instead of rough boards. She sat up, straining to see through thick fog that surrounded her.

"Captain Jack." His face materialized out of the vaporous whiteness. He squinted down at her. "No. As hard as I try, you're still fully clothed. I think this must be hell."

His hand reached down and met hers. Pulling against the faintly warm, firm grasp, Elizabeth surged to her feet. She staggered, the wet rock underfoot providing uncertain footing.

"Steady as she goes, Miss Swann."

"It is you." She was close enough to feel his legs match up against hers. "But you went down . . ."

"With the Pearl." Jack fingered a raw scrape across his cheek. "Filthy beastie ate me ship. Ate me." He frowned. "But if I'm in the gullet of the kraken, how is it that you are here as well? Did you not make good your escape, you and Will, and what remained of the crew?"

"We did." The words came out with a hard, defensive emphasis. She cleared her throat. "Yes. We escaped."

"Quick thinking, lass." Jack grinned and winked. "You've the instincts of a pirate. I can't fault your wit.”

"You're only a dream." Elizabeth backed away. "Something my mind has conjured up to torment me."

"Mayhap." Jack's head swivelled about. "Pestiferous fog. Let's see if we can find surer footing."

She still held his hand, Elizabeth realized as Jack turned. She followed his lead, stumbling over and around boulder-sized rocks. Visibility did not improve as they walked.

"More and more of the same," Jack muttered. "If this is your dream, try nudging the landscape a bit. If it were my dream we'd be in a tavern with plenty of rum near to hand."

Elizabeth refused to look at him directly. The sideways glimpse she caught of his saucy wink, eyebrows and mustaches wreathed in white tendrils of fog, made her stomach knot in a queer way.

"It's all the same." She tried to keep panic from sounding in her voice. "I need to awaken. We need to find you, save you."

"Really? Blast . . ." Jack slipped and fell. The sound of his knee striking a rock seemed overly-loud and somehow ominous. "That hurt. I think there's a bigger, flatter bit here."

Elizabeth offered her hand. "Where?"

Jack pulled himself back to his feet with her help. "Just ahead. I can see darker color beneath the fog." His hands dropped to close gently around her waist, then slid down to rest on the swell of her hips.

"Captain Sparrow . . ." Elizabeth let her protest die when she saw Jack's laughing eyes and raised eyebrows. He turned her slightly and nudged her forward.

"Just pointing you in the correct direction. You go up first. Wouldn't want to lose you."

She didn't see it at first, but as she moved around Jack the fog seemed to compact down into a mountain of gray stone. It wasn't a difficult climb, four, perhaps five outcroppings of rock led upward like a rough stairway.

"Still dismal, love, although I think the view’s improved." Jack sat down on the table-top-sized expanse of flat rock and began to rub his shin. "Have I mentioned that your legs in those boy's breeches have replaced several of my favorite fantasies?"

"Does the fantasy end with you going to your death in shackles?" There was less fog on their new perch. She could see Jack clearly now. His shirt was more shredded than she remembered, and in addition to the scrape on his face there were red welts visible on his arms and chest.

"Ah." Jack's black-rimmed eyes followed her gaze. He flicked a tatter of linen away from his forearm with a casual flip of his finger. "Beastie had teeth. Lots o' teeth."

"I'm not sorry." The words sounded hollow even as she said them. Elizabeth knelt beside him. "I did what I had to do."

The careless humor leached from his face. Something quiet and dark filled Jack's eyes and voice as he leaned toward her. "Perhaps you'd like to do it again?"

Elizabeth grabbed a handful of her shirt and twisted it into a knot, pushing the fabric hard against her stomach. She felt her lungs heave as if compensating for extreme exertion. "The . . . I only did it to distract you."

"Distract." Jack twined a bit of mustache around his finger. "A brilliantly successful distraction, love. Parts of me that haven't been distracted for years were utterly distracted."

"Oh. I. Will . . ." There was no way she could coherently explain her confusion, Elizabeth decided. It didn't help that Jack sat there looking at her with a smug, worldly-wise half smile.

"Will saw you kiss me? Has he said anything?"

"No." Damn the man, Elizabeth thought, then wondered which man she was damning. "I will tell him what I did before we leave . . ."

"So you’re coming to find me?" Jack looked around at the rock and fog. "Bring rum."

"You can't be alive. In spite of what Tia Dalma says. I heard the Pearl . . . the sound was terrible, Jack. The ship shrieked as she went under." Elizabeth shuddered and shut her eyes. "I did that. I killed the Pearl. I killed you."

"Sweet lady. I take responsibility for how things turned out. I made a deal. I had the black spot. It gives my mind ease to know you and Will and the others weren't done in by my actions."

His fingers lightly touched her cheek. Elizabeth opened her eyes.

"You say that because this is a dream, and I need you to say that," she whispered, touching the scrape on his cheek. "As much as I believe I had to do what I did, the consequences of my actions are hard to accept."

"Welcome to my world." He covered her fingers with his own, moving them to his lips. "So you say this is a dream. And I recall an earlier mention of awakening . . ."

"Oh bugger." Here was the Jack she'd watched swagger from one misadventure to another. The lewd suggestion in his eyes and voice should send any proper lady swooning from disgust and apprehension. Elizabeth distantly admitted to herself that "proper lady" was a title she had never valued.

"Dare I hope there is anything else you might need from me?" Jack breathed against her fingers.

She couldn't resist finding out if his mouth tasted the same as she remembered. Elizabeth leaned into the kiss. Even without the spice of deception and desperation, the same thrill of sensation shuddered through her skin and tied a knot of pressure low in her abdomen as his tongue moved softly against hers. Sea-salty and sweet. He tasted the same.

Will's kiss set her aflame, as well, Elizabeth reminded herself. When he touched her it felt familiar, right. She’d half-loved the boy from the moment they hauled him from the sea. As he grew to manhood, and she to womanhood, that feeling had deepened in her. Will's closeness now always excited her with the promise of future consummation.

But Jack . . . If she stood between the two of them, holding the compass, in which direction would the needle point?

"Lizzie," Jack whispered against her lips. "You’ve more than a little bit of the pirate in you already. What say we complete the process?"

Elizabeth pushed away from him, grimacing. Fog crawled over the rock about them, rolling in soft billows over their legs and torsos. It seemed to thicken as she stared into Jack's twinkling eyes, creating the impression that his face was the only thing in an otherwise featureless world.

"Is that all you have to offer me, Jack? A little bit . . .?" she asked tartly.

He laughed, gold teeth glinting, braids and beads bobbing in and out of the fog. "Many complaints have been registered against me, love. Complaints concerning my character, my conduct, my competence in my chosen profession," Jack shrugged. "In this one area I've had no complaints."

"Perhaps you weren't awake to hear them." Elizabeth bit her tongue so she would not laugh back at him. The fog had swallowed the rock completely. The waving gestures that accompanied Jack’s words made the white stuff roil and twist around the tatters of his shirt. The motion brought back a vivid memory of the kraken's tentacles, killing her moment of amusement.

"Jack. I once heard you say -- 'They done what's right by them.' That's not just a pirate's code. It's largely the way the world works. But decisions made from self-interest aren't always in our best interest, are they?"

"Whoa." Jack threw up his hands in mock horror. "Wouldn't attempt to reason through that without a tankard in my hand, love. D'ya think we could forego the philosophy and return to the . . . " his words trailed off suggestively.

"Jack -" Elizabeth held her breath and listened. Had there been a noise? Something like the incredibly far-off cry of a bird?

“Did you hear something, love?”

“Our voices, naught else.” Elizabeth let out her breath in a long sigh, then froze. There it was again. She shut her eyes and concentrated.

"Don't forget the rum." Jack's voice was oddly distant.

 

The screech of the twice-damned monkey brought her bolt upright.

Elizabeth wiped sweat from her forehead with hands that seemed slightly unsteady. Gray light revealed the rude details of the swamp shack. No fog, no Jack. It had been a dream.

"Elizabeth. Are you awake?" Will stood in the doorway, a barely visible silhouette. "We'll be leaving soon."

She licked her lips. They tasted of the sea.

"Will. There's something I need to tell you."


End file.
